Constant readers know by heart the Jeff Palmer catechism: How he was raised by evangelical Christians in sunny Argentina where he was happily made to read the Bible cover to cover.

Finding in that long and winding text only the most tremendous confirm- ations of God’s personal interest in his tiny self, and with no further job prospects than that he was a lovely 17- year-old blessed with an endowment and a bubble-shaped posterior that a local professor had called whatever the Spanish for “callipygian” is, Jeff jetted off to Europe (in his disarmingly honest words) to “slut around” for money — but mostly for fun.

In Amsterdam the teenager became one of the boys of the Blue Boy club, performing in the live sex show and between sets pressing exorbitantly priced drinks on the tourists, as well as his exquisitely packed self.

The notion that prostitution was in any way sordid never clouded his southerly imagination and so with the same open-hearted spirit you could once see in his rosy cheeked photo as a sandy-haired tyke that used to front his site (when it was still his own creation, before it was absorbed by a corporate entity that had legal issues to worry about vis-a vis tykes, rosy cheeked or otherwise, and got rid of that sweet photo immediately) Jeff became adept in the way of handcuffs, fistfucks, and crystal meth, always certain that he was under the personal sanction of "my eternal idol, Jesus Christ."

Guided as he was by invisible hands, trained at last for his life’s work, Jeff was now ready for America and hit the shores of Miami at 19. Polaroids brought his square little face and upright woody to the attention of Falcon Studios, where he was made a "Falcon Exclusive," contracted to them and them alone. In no time fans were awarding him "Most Seductive Eyes" and "Best Top" at various industry shows. At about this time he put his diary online — a move that would ultimately end his contract with Falcon. For while Jeff Palmer, the video star, could never play a bottom on camera (a position that would kill what the studio believed was his stud allure), in his diary, Palmer, the real person, proved to be…well…very much a real person.

No matter. The Powers on High made their favor known to him again in the oblique way that is their hallmark. The diary goes on at length about certain patterns made in a Miami parking lot by pigeons that seemed to single out Jeff’s Ferrari — though I might have mixed this up with how God reassured him it was okay to speculate on whether Jesus and Mary Magdalene had shared more than parables. Anyway upon being fired from Falcon, the lines to Heaven were now open. Thus, verily it was revealed unto He of the Most Seductive Eyes of 1998 that he must go forth, write his own music and set it to a traveling strip show.

Within months, God’s Favorite South American was touring gay bars across the country behind his first CD single, "Conectando" (“Joining”), to be followed by similar self-regarding titles like "Beautiful", "Easy" and "Why? Porque?" Perhaps the most notorious element of the show was what would happen afterwards when he would hold “my nasty autograph sessions.” There the fans got to shake more then his hand.